Anything But Love
by Ava Chanel
Summary: When Inara moves to the post war-torn planet Shadow in an effort to put back the pieces of her failing marriage, the last thing she expected was to become so entangled with the town's most notorious rancher, and the repercussions that would come with it. Eventual Mal/Inara, Simon/Kaylee, Wash/Zoe. Slight AU.
1. New Beginnings

**A/N:** _It's back. As promised. Revamped, and better this time around. A slight AU fic that's been on my mind for some time now. Rating is M due to the natural darkness of the story; beware of triggering content, violence, gore, and sex. There will be some similarities to the 'verse, of course, with much of the same character dynamics from the show. Still enough of a twist though to perhaps make it more alternate universe than anything. Pairings include eventual Mal/Inara and eventual Simon/Kaylee. Wash/Zoe will always be together, even in an AU, so long as both are alive, because not only are they awesome, but also because it is Joss' vision that they would have. Also, yes everyone is alive. :) Enjoy._

* * *

 **Anything But Love**

" _Home is not where you are from,  
it is where you belong.  
Some of us travel the whole world to find it.  
Others, find it in a person..."_

\- Beau Taplin

* * *

 _When Inara moves to the post-war torn planet Shadow in an effort to put back the pieces of her failing marriage, the last thing she expected was to become so entangled with the town's most notorious rancher, and the repercussions that would come with it._

* * *

 **I. New Beginnings**

* * *

There were women in the mirror. One was busy bustling about the other, fixing and adjusting, perfecting whatever wasn't perfect already. The other woman stood still. Her long, dark curls were hidden away, contained in an elaborate up-do, with only a few escaping to frame her heart-shaped face. Her dark brows were a perfect thin arch over a set of gorgeous, large brown eyes that sparkled under the dim light. They were framed with thick lashes, curled to perfection. High cheekbones were defined with a natural set blush that contrasted in a lovely way with her cinnamon coloured skin. She had a dainty nose, and lips painted the deepest red. She was decorated in the finest silks and jewels. The dress was long and elegant, the colour a dark indigo blue with thin straps, while the expensive piece at her throat glimmered with the cluster of diamonds that choked her slender neck. The heavy tip of the jewels fell to the swell of her breasts, which were accentuated by the sweetheart cut of the gown. The satin material of the dress was soft against her skin, hugging her curves in all the right places, and emphasizing her small waist. The diamond earrings that matched the necklace were long enough to almost tickle her bare shoulders.

It was without a doubt that the woman in the mirror was the very symbol of beauty, elegance, and class. She was not, however, the definition of a happy wife, despite the heavy diamond ring that encased her left index finger indicating otherwise. The woman in the mirror did not smile, and her eyes, although one of her lovelier attributes, were tired and distant. She was merely a reflection of the person she ought to have been. It was as if she were there, and then not, as if her spirit had left her adorned body while it still could. After all, it wouldn't have been long before she was due to fill in the role of doting, loving wife; a role she had become quite adept at performing.

Lucky, some would argue; blessed even. It was no secret that there were those who envied her life, and perhaps they were justified in their jealousy. Who was she to complain? If she wanted it, it was hers. From beautiful clothing, to expensive jewelry, to the elaborate vacations and fine dining; she could have it at a whim. And yet, she never was one to want for much. Sure, it had been a bit more appealing in the beginning, but slowly, she started to lose interest after deciding that the gifts were no longer out of love, but duty. They were nothing but an effort to quell any dissatisfaction, placating her, making her happy where her husband could not. How little he knew her; material things were nice, but they were not the reason she'd loved him. After all, even before marrying into a prominent Alliance politician's family, she was always able to afford her own things thanks to her previous, successful career.

And yet she'd thrown all of that away for love.

 _Fēng nǚhái._

What did anyone so young ever know about love?

She had more than just a few choice words to offer her younger self if she'd ever get the chance.

 _Don't marry him._

That would be the most crucial point she'd make.

 _He seems perfect and handsome and sincere now, but men change. They always change and you know it. Don't do it. Let him take you to his bed as often as he wants, but never promise him all of you. Don't give him your heart._

She wasn't even sure if she would have listened to sound advice back then, so blinded by _love_ for the _bù zhōng de húndàn._

Of all the men who'd tried to whisk her away, whom she had turned down, time and time again, and yet, Atherton Wing had managed to find a weakness within her. It had nothing to do with his wealth, or his good looks. Both qualities were in abundance when it came to the men who had tried to love her. Instead, she found herself enamored with his charm, ambition, and youthful ideals. He was a man to change the world, if there ever was any. That was the man who'd won her over. The man who spoke so passionately about his dreams and goals, that she'd often find herself lost in his voice and, not long after, sweaty and naked in his arms with no recollection of how they'd so seamlessly collided. Hours felt like seconds in his company, and she found herself loving the vibrant colors of his soul. She could spend an eternity at his side, immersing herself in his essence, and her life would not have felt wasted in the least.

When he'd asked her to be his, exclusively, her voice had betrayed her thoughts before she could even have processed it.

 _Yes!_

She looked back at her younger self with scorn and a bitter taste in her mouth.

If only she'd known. But he'd ignited a hope in her, a fire that had long since fizzled and died, and yet had once burned bright and strong.

 _He's different than all the rest._

She'd been a pretty little fool to think so. Atherton Wing was no different than any other man she'd encountered of such rank. She had yet to ever meet a man who would stand out from all the rest, and was therefore convinced that they were merely a work of fiction, created by the imaginations of women who longed for something more.

"I have big news, _bǎobèi_ ," he'd told her after the waiter had cleared their table, the romantic gesture taking her slightly off guard.

They had no audience that night.

The ambiance was candles and privacy, and he'd worn the dashing grey suit she'd been so fond of. The color was as pale as his eyes, and contrasted handsomely with his strong jaw line and dark hair. He'd sent her the deep blue dress she wore that evening, accompanied with the flashy jewelry he knew would go so well with the ensemble. Ravishing is what he wanted her to be. A trophy on his arm for all men to envy and long for, but could never possess. The perfect wife. Silent when not spoken to, and sung praises of her husband when she was. No one dared doubt her loyalty to him. To the outside world, they were as in love as ever.

And so, she was dressed and primed for the occasion, ready to slip into her mask yet again.

Except there were no important guests or family members to fool this time around. Instead, there he was, alone, standing and waiting for her with a smile so sweet that one could almost forget to see the wolf prowling beneath that handsome exterior. The sight of her could still steal his breath away, and he'd allowed his eyes to wander, staring tantalizingly at the flesh of her bosom, like a hunter would his prey. A feast he was no longer privy to, she'd remind herself.

"It's a fresh business, Inara. New beginnings. Father says that if we play our cards right, Shadow will become most profitable. And to think, he'll have _us_ to thank for it all."

He took her hand in his, rather unexpectedly, and she had to fight off the urge to flinch away. Instead, she stared at the way his fingers wrapped around hers. Years ago, she'd ached for such attention from him. Now, all she could feel was a numbing void. Nothing. She felt nothing. It was much like the last time his slick body had pressed against hers. It didn't matter that he moved inside of her, filled her with his desperate thrusts, moaning softly with pleasure, all the while she remained quiet and lost. She would still feel empty. She would lay there, frozen and trying desperately to focus on feeling something, _anything_. She hadn't wanted to believe it was all gone. But then he'd finish, satisfied for the time being, kiss her forehead, and roll over to his side of the bed, leaving her with nothing to prove her doubts untrue.

She was a body that he would make use of; a breathing doll made of flesh. So she had ensured that that was the very last time he'd ever spend the night with her again.

"New beginnings...for the Alliance?" Her cool voice echoed his words in the form of a question, unbelieving and untrusting.

Yet, even now, a tiny glimmer of hope betrayed her. Was he offering her a chance? After all those years spent fighting, growing ever the more distant, was he finally going to make an effort to fix what had been broken?

Would things ever change between the two of them?

He squeezed her hand, and she looked into his soft blue eyes. "Not only the Alliance, love. For _us_ , too."

 _Wǒ de tiān a_ , she wanted to believe him so badly, it hurt.

He was looking at her with the same expression of forlorn pain she could never quite heal no matter her skills, and she could tell he was genuinely trying to bridge the gap in their marriage. She just wasn't sure if it also meant that he would be willing to give up his old ways, too. After all was said and done, too much had transpired between them to ever get them back to where they had once been. He would always carry some resentment for her no matter how much she'd try, and she could barely come to love a man who was always so quick to abandon her.

Somewhere along the way, she'd stopped making the effort, and he'd found comfort wherever he could, typically in the arms of other women. Women who could offer him what she never could. So long as it kept him out of her bed, she'd turn a blind eye. The fact that she couldn't even bring herself to care had initially frightened her beyond measure. Sometimes, he'd bring a woman home, and she could hear them from the other side of the wall, giggling, laughing, moaning and mewling the night away. The only envy she felt was that of sexual frustration. For her husband, she could only feel pity.

"We can get away from all of it, start fresh on a new planet. We'll build it together, just the two of us. No interference from mother or father. We can...reconnect." Atherton's gaze once again wandered down her body, lingering where it wasn't appropriate.

Shadow.

She recalled that he'd been talking about Shadow. Perhaps the most hostile and unwelcoming planet in the 'verse, and that was where he wanted to rebuild what they'd long lost. The unification war had ravaged the planet a few years ago, the Alliance bringing it to near death as a threat against all those who dared try and rebel against them. After years, it was finally brought under control, but only when it had been threatened with imminent destruction. What was one inhospitable planet to the Alliance after all? Eliminating it, and all its colonists, was a small price to pay for the Alliance. Needless to say, the inhabitants were still very much an unhappy and unfriendly folk to outsiders.

"It's romantic in its own way. Sure, it'll take some getting used to, and the planet is populated with incestuous hicks and filthy Browncoats, but we'll have each other to keep company, darling. It will be more of a reason to...stay together."

No surprise that Atherton had no love for the rebels who lived on Shadow; soldiers, men and women who were exiled to their own planet on Alliance terms. By marriage, it was therefore expected of her to share such hatred.

Of course, she could never bring herself to hate people she didn't even know. But the last time she'd made the mistake of sharing that, it had earned her a nasty argument with Atherton, as well as some unappreciative stares and cold shoulders from a few of his friends and family. Having learned her lesson the hard way, she simply said nothing in response. A good wife was a silent wife.

"Are you asking me, or telling me?" She questioned him; taking his mind off of the rim folk he so loved to hate.

He knew very well that she rarely, if ever, had a choice in any major decisions that he made. For years, they may have lived together, but he was always away on some sort of business trip, sometimes for months at a time. While he was gone, she'd keep busy helping out at the academy. But if his work demanded that she be there for a public event of any kind, she'd be yanked from wherever she was no matter the circumstances, and forced to participate with a smile. She'd fought it at first, but her efforts were fruitless, as they always were whenever she came up against the Wing family.

Atherton was looking taken aback by her question, and she wondered if his reaction was rehearsed.

"Well, I _am_ asking you. However, it would be highly suspicious if I moved there myself for such a length of time with you still on Persephone. A wife should go wherever her husband goes. Anything else and it would be bad for business, as father would put it." Atherton forced a tight lipped smile.

 _You're coming and you're going to be happy about it._

He may as well have told her that, but their relationship was so full of lies and deceit that it was almost impossible to differentiate the cover stories from the real thing anymore. However, she knew he was trying to at least be kind about the matter. Her question could have easily sparked another screaming match, but he'd replied politely, with only the undertones of a threat. Because it was always a threat, she knew that. How pathetic that she would still try and find the good in him, even when there really wasn't any there.

But...he could have been honest.

Maybe they would move to Shadow, and he'd be good to her and keep his promises this time. Maybe he'd try to spend his free time with her, like he said he would. Maybe they'd grow close again by doing the simple things together, like have dinner or breakfast. They could cook it together, and maybe she'd sing while he played the piano, as he would slowly fall in love with her melodic voice all over again. They'd stay up late on the days he'd work long hours, and relax while having a glass of wine, talking and laughing by the fireplace. He'd tell her about his day, and she'd share stories of her childhood. Every now and again, they'd go see a show off world, spend a romantic evening together as a getaway from the daunting reality of work and life. Perhaps then, he'd not need to seek other women for comfort. Perhaps she could allow him into her bed again, and he'd make love to her tenderly and passionately, taking his time like he used to, so many years ago. Sweet, merciful Buddha, how she longed to experience that form of pleasure once more.

The notion was a pleasant one, and it had her feeling a small spark of excitement and anticipation, if only briefly. But alas, the moment would pass, because she knew there was also another possibility that was more likely to occur.

They could get to Shadow, and he could also very well be so preoccupied with business that he'd leave her alone most times. Only then, it would be on a strange planet full of people who would hate her by default. He could abandon her, much like he always did, to seek pleasure where he knew it was a sure thing.

But it didn't matter.

In the end, she had no choice.

She would uproot her entire life, leave behind all her friends and her students and her career because he required it of her.

So, she smiled and nodded, placing her other hand over his.

"I'm willing to try if you are," she stated convincingly.

If she could only believe in her own lies as readily as others did.

* * *

"Don't play stupid, ol' man. You know what's it we want now so hand it over and ain't no one gotta get hurt."

She could hear their voices from her little hiding spot, even though she couldn't see them. Her Pa had tucked her away inside one of the tinier transport shuttles that had been under repair, and locked the door, warning her against coming out no matter what it was she heard on the outside.

"You gotta stay put, sweet pea. No matter what ya hear, don't let 'em know you're in here. Kaylee, you gotta hear me, please. Look at me, girl!" Her father had pleaded with her before he'd locked her in.

She'd still been listening to the sound of them banging violently on the garage doors and delivering threats, that she'd barely been able to focus on what he had been telling her. Finally, when he did get her attention, all she was able to do was nod numbly, and stare at him, dumbfounded, a heavy lump in her throat. Her heart was going a mile a minute, but her Pa leaned in and kissed her cheek, thick fingers rubbing her head affectionately like he always did since she was a little girl. It calmed her down, if only a little. Taking one more wipe at the sweat that covered his pink face, he whispered a quick 'i love you', and then disappeared behind the metal door.

She was curled up into a ball, unable to fight off the shakes and cold sweat that consumed her. She felt so useless and weak, hiding away while they would no doubt be hurting her father. Every loud sound had her jumping in response, hitting her head against the metal wall she was cramped up against. She just hoped there would be no gunshots. Gunshots would mean it was over, and she couldn't bear the thought.

"I ain't got time for no more stallin', ol' man, so now you either pay up, or else's we take it another way. Mebbe see to that purty girl you got, spend a night with her for some o' what you be owin' us." The men got rowdy then, and she could hear a few snickering in response.

"Please, I just need another week! Been workin' on an Alliance part, gonna fetch a pretty price once I have it complete. I'll give y'all the profits, swear on my ma's grave. Just a week s'all I ask," she heard her father beg.

"You been helpin' them purple belly scum and expected to be payin' us with them filthy Alliance credits?! Them same bastards that nearly tore our home with them parts you're prolly fixin' up, all shiny and new?!" the leader bellowed angrily.

A blow to the gut, and she heard her Pa grunt and collapse to the floor. They were starting in on the beating, and she knew she couldn't stay hidden away forever. There wasn't a bone in her body that was okay with being a ninny. Anxiously, she looked around the shuttle, knowing she kept her handy wrench in there somewhere the last time she'd set to working on it. Shaky fingers nearly lost their grip on the end of it as she fumbled to grab it once she'd spotted its metallic shine from underneath a dirty rag.

"Plenty more where that came from, ol' man! Teach you to be dealin' with Alliance tech!" Her father grunted again before begging them to stop, and some men laughed at his pathetic plight.

She could hear him struggling to get back up, but her Pa loved the sweets Ma baked with Mal's ranch goods, and the heavier set man was therefore not in any shape to handle a gang beat down. This only spurred Kaylee to work faster on picking the lock from the inside of the shuttle. It didn't matter that she was nervous as hell, or that she had no idea what she could even do to help. She did know, however, that she couldn't simply sit by and do nothing while her father suffered at the hands of some no good, scheming mercs over a few lost credits.

"That's for cleanin' off our blood from purple belly tech for a bar o' protein, ya no good traitor!" Another groan of pain from her father.

"And that's for not payin' up on time!" Yet again her father moaned helplessly in response to the swift kicks he was receiving.

"Now, how you gonna get us our due, ol' man? I got me some hungry men to feed and nothin' to feed 'em with.'Course, that hunger don't always gotta mean food, so where's that purty girl o' yours? Hidin' her? Come out, come out, wherever you are, girlie. Come out and play. Noah ain't gonna hurt ya..unless you're into that sorta thing," the thug chided much to the amusement of the men around him.

Her father coughed, and it was a wet gurgle that sounded a lot like blood and phlegm. That was all the adrenaline she needed. Kaylee kicked open the shuttle door and bolted out, clutching the heavy wrench tightly in her hands like a weapon, holding it above her head in an attacking stance. The men backed up at her sudden appearance, but once they saw the wrench, they all burst into a fit of laughter and tears.

Her Pa was keeled over on the ground, one hand clutching at his midsection, and the other reaching to her, as if to tell her to run. He could barely open his eyes, but he was trying for her, and using them to plead with her. He shook his head to the best of his abilities, as if to say she should have never revealed her hiding spot, and he was saddened by it. He was going to lose her to these men, and he'd much rather have died first.

Like a pack of wolves, the gang started closing in on her, circling around her so as to confuse her. She would not be able to tell who would strike first this way, and was therefore tense and fidgety. She flinched each time one got too close, readying the wrench in the event she had to use it. Her breathing was ragged and heavy, and she could feel the sweat against her palm from where she was clutching her weapon of choice.

"D-don't think either of you know h-how much a wrench to the head can hurt, and I d-don't reckon y'all would wanna find out anytime soon. S-so how's about you get goin' now, and I won't be usin' it...," she warned them, although she tripped over her words and sounded weaker than she'd intended to.

Jayne had told her that a threat was still a threat so long as the delivery was there. Didn't matter if you had an empty gun or a fork; either could be deadly if you let them believe it was. Judging from the expressions on the mercenaries, the wrench may as well have been a pillow in her hand.

"Looks like we got ourselves a feisty one," Noah, the man Kaylee presumed was the leader, commented.

He wore a dirty black cowboy hat, and his left eye was almost completely white where the iris should have been. A deep, dark scar marked the flesh perfectly in a vertical line on both his upper and lower eyelid. He chewed on tobacco with rotted teeth, and the spittle built up in the corner of his mouth, clinging to the bristles of his black mustache. Kaylee did not fail to notice the gun in his holster, and that he wasn't the only one brandishing a deadly weapon. Other men in the group had pulled out their sharp knives, and Kaylee caught one examining it with mild interest, as if to be judging how her blood would look on the metal surface.

Five.

There were five of them in total. Four circled her. One had grabbed her father's head by the bits of white hair left on his scalp, and placed his knife against the tender flesh of his throat.

"I like it when they try an' fight," the man with the scar stated, gaining closer to her.

Kaylee backed up, pointing the wrench at him as if threatening him not to come any closer, but in that moment, another one of his boys had found his way behind her, and taken the opportunity to close in. He'd knocked the wrench out of her unsuspecting grip, disarming her well before she could do anything about it. It clanged on the floor, loud and heavy. He then quickly subdued her, holding her against him as she struggled desperately, hushing her all the while she squealed. He held her by her arms with an iron-like grip, and it became obvious quickly that all her flailing, kicking and screaming would do her absolutely no good against a man of his strength.

When she'd tried to shout for help, she was slapped hard, so hard that her head had jerked from the motion and her vision was blurry as a result of the impact. Her cheek stung and burned from the large handprint mark left behind on her flesh.

"Now, you gonna be a good l'il girl, or am I gonna have to gag you? Don't really wanna do that to such a purty mouth like yours, so keep them lips zipped 'till I say so. Think of it as helpin' your ol' man. Besides, mayhap a slut like you ends up enjoyin' it," he grinned at her like an evil, twisted Cheshire cat with knives for teeth.

Kaylee's eyes widened, and she tried her hardest not to cry, but the tears burned, and she knew it wouldn't be long before one slipped down her cheek.

"Aw, come now, don't cry. Cryin' ain't a turn on, right boys?"

More jeering as most of the men agreed.

"Tears can be like lubrication, sometimes, Boss," a bigger, burlier thug argued.

Noah grabbed her by the chin then, making her whimper in response, and then forced her to stare into his mismatched eyes. "Just the price o' doin' business, sweetie. You got your Pa to thank for it," he whispered against her face, so close she could smell the tobacco in his mouth as well as the pungent, lingering scent of alcohol.

He then jerked his head, indicating for his man to start moving Kaylee out of the garage, but not before he copped a feel of her breasts, and then giggled into her ear before boldly moving his fingers down her torso towards her core. Tears blurred her eyes, as she tried her hardest not to scream in protest at the unwelcome attention. The thug holding her father at bay had let him go, and shoved him face first into the floor. They carried Kaylee out, despite her desperate efforts to break free, her tears now staining her cheeks and causing her hair to stick to her face. Her Pa, so concerned for his daughter, ignored his pain to the best of his abilities, and tried desperately to stop them, chasing after them on fumbling feet, his eyes wet, blood staining his clothing and face. In response, they simply laughed at his efforts, until the biggest merc merely used the butt of his gun to knock him out with a blow to the head. Kaylee cried out, wailing hysterically as she watched her father fall limp to the ground, unmoving.

Just as they started approaching the horses they'd rode in on, they saw a shadow of a person standing next to them. It was evidently not one of their own men because all five mercenaries had paused in hesitation and went quiet as soon as they could see him. The amusement and good cheer had disappeared, replaced by curiosity and uncertainty. Kaylee's lips quivered as she debated whether or not to cry out for help. She thought of her father, injured and unmoving, and then of her mother, hidden away inside the house, safe for now. Should she give them a reason to put a bullet in her brain, she knew it was her Ma they'd go for next. Fresh, hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"You gotta be shittin' me. Malcolm Reynolds, in the flesh... The hell's he doin' here?" One man begged the question as soon as he recognized the tall figure standing by their horses.

Kaylee's heart leapt to excitement at the mention of a familiar, comforting name, but before she could scream out for him, she was gagged roughly with a dirty rag that tasted of gun metal and oil. The man holding her against her will whispered into her ear; "Now don't go thinkin' about doin' somethin' stupid. Wouldn't want the boss to kill ya before I get to have my fun. 'Course, a body's a body, but warm ones feel nicer."

There was all around unease between the group of men, as they pondered the unexpected situation. Even Kaylee had silenced her muffled cries despite the disgusting, crude confession she'd just been subjected to. She now knew that whatever was in store for her, it wasn't going to be what the man holding her hostage wanted it to be, and that much was a relief. She knew Mal would never allow any harm to come to her. Nonetheless, she was also aware that the farmer was still vastly outnumbered, and although she'd seen his temper in action, the myths about his soldier ways were still just stories to her. He'd always taken careful measures to shield her from that lifestyle, ensuring that she was never around when the juicy stuff happened. Heck, the man wouldn't even talk about it with her; he'd shut off instantly and grow more and more irritated the further she probed.

 _"The less you know, the better, mèimei,"_ he'd inform her in his serious tone of voice.

Even gagged and bound, Kaylee couldn't help but feel like the petulant child the older man had a habit of turning her into. She wondered what he was going to do now, seeing her and her family in a situation that would most likely require some violence to solve. She was almost hoping for it, after everything these men had done.

Noah's voice brought her out of her own imagination. "Ain't no reason to get yer panties in a knot, boys. This is business, even Reynolds knows that. Still, don't hurt none to be ready to shoot on command. That man ain't right in the head after all," Noah instructed, his eyes focused on the harmless figure of Malcolm Reynolds in the distance.

They resumed pace again, and started moving to where they'd left their horses tethered, not a far off trek from the Frye's garage and shop. Kaylee could see the back of Mal's head as he fed the horses a small treat, brushing their noses with his hand, and cooing gentle words to them while they feasted on the fresh apples. He had the sleeves of his deep red dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, and his dark brown suspenders hanging loosely at his sides. He was casual and dirty from a day's hard work on the ranch, no doubt. Grass and dirt stains marked some parts of his beige pants, and his dark brown boots were caked with mud. His soft brown hair was messy, a key sign that he'd been running his hand through it due to stress; a nervous habit Kaylee had come to learn of Mal from the years she'd spent working for him. When they came upon him, she wasn't sure what to expect, but a calm and pleasant man was certainly not what she'd been hoping for. Was it possible that he had simply been in the area to pay a visit, unbeknownst to him the dangerous men that were now on him?

Panicked at the thought, Kaylee made muffled sounds against the rag in her mouth in an effort to warn Mal. But if he heard her, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he turned around and smiled at the armed group that was staring him down with both feelings of suspicion and hate. He didn't make any eye contact with Kaylee, much to her surprise. He was acting as if she wasn't even there.

"Mornin' fellas! Beauty of a day we're havin', huh?" He exclaimed in a cheery voice, as if reuniting with old friends. He had his thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his pants, and looked among the dirty, intimidating faces of the gang with a smile.

Kaylee knew better; Mal's forced politeness was just a mask for the fury he was actually experiencing. She'd seen that much first hand on numerous occasions, most especially when he'd be dealing with Alliance traders. The truth was, the happier he looked, the angrier he actually was. And right now, she'd bank on him seething with rage. But for a man who'd come to a gun fight, Kaylee noticed that Mal was unarmed, his trademark pistol notably absent from his side, as was his holster.

"Cut the crap, Reynolds. This ain't one o' your _kělián_ rescue missions. You know ol' man Frye ain't paid his dues, and now me and mine gotta break even. So do us a solid, and piss off. Our quarrel ain't with ya anyhow," the scarred man spoke up, using his gun to indicate that Mal step out of the way.

Kaylee caught a crack in Mal's forced smile, but it was gone too quick for anyone else to notice. He was biting back, it was there in the whites of his knuckles, his hands curled up into fists at his sides.

"Afraid I can't do that, boys, and you know exactly why," Mal countered calmly, still maintaining what was left of a sunny disposition, despite the circumstances and the insults.

Noah chuckled. "Don't really think you're in the position to be tellin' us what we can or cannot do." He stared at Mal's lack of a holster around his slender hips.

"You're probably right, I can see what you're sayin'. After that last...incident, it's fair to say most folk don't like buyin' honest goods from a man who's always carryin' a pistol he knows how to use. Market's full of older folk, women, and animals. Ain't exactly somethin' I can't handle without violence," Mal admitted, his smile disappearing for the time being.

The men looked around at each other in question, trying to understand the tension that had bubbled up. Noah was the exception; there was a reason he was the brains of a group of thick-headed morons. He stared Mal down with both eyes, being the only one who'd caught on to the underlying threat that he'd implied. Kaylee found it unnerving to stare into Noah's empty, faded eye, but Mal wasn't a man easily intimidated. But that didn't mean he missed the way the men all had their fingers hovering nervously around the butts of their guns.

Instead, he licked his lips, and pressed on, his good demeanour almost entirely vanished by now; "But, see, those rules don't apply to gunhands, as I'm sure y'all already know."

He looked to Kaylee then, and they locked eyes. Acknowledging the state she was in brought forth the scowl he'd been busy trying to mask for the past few minutes, and she knew why he'd been avoiding her earlier. It was hard to maintain an act of calm, cool, collectedness when the object of your anger was staring you in the face. Seeing her in such a state, and not being able to do anything about it was infuriating him. Even now, Malcolm Reynolds was holding back in front of her. Even now, he was protecting her from that side of him.

 _Just kill 'em already, Mal!_ She thought urgently.

Much to her disappointment, Mal was sticking to his original plan.

He looked back at Noah before continuing. "And Jayne, well, he loves his guns. So who am I to stand between a man and his one true love? Let the man have his guns, so long as he ain't doin' my business with them. Heck, if you look right over at the roof over there behind me, you'll probably see him usin' one now. See how he treats her real proper? I think she's his favourite, just between us," Mal informed them with a mocking smile, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Everyone looked to see the burly ranch hand waving from behind a sniper trained in their direction. He was situated on the balcony of an abandoned building in the distance, and had Mal not pointed him out, no one would have spotted him, the browns of his clothing camouflaging him against the nearly rotted wood.

Mal then stood up to his full height, shoulders back, and suddenly became a lot more of a daunting presence. He adjusted his sleeves, and flexed his bare forearms as he folded them over a strong chest. Stepping towards the leader of the band of mercenaries, jaw locked and the vein at his temple pulsing, he spoke through gritted teeth, "I'm thinkin' his girl might be takin' a liking to you, Noah. So how's about you do business with her tonight, instead?"

The threat was obvious now, and Mal was no longer hiding it. Anger was in the lines that had formed on his forehead and around his brow. It was in the way his jaw twitched, and the husky edge that his voice had taken on when he spoke.

Noah stared down at the gun aiming directly at his skull, and for once, he looked every bit the terrified fool he was. Jayne responded by focusing in with his scope and sending a single bullet flying right by his foot, sending the man with nerves jumping on the spot. Everyone else flinched in response as well, except for Mal. He stood still, steely eyed and serious, completely unfazed.

Kaylee had seen Mal angry. She'd seen him furious and unhappy. But she'd never seen him scary. To her, he'd always been harmless, loveable Malcolm Reynolds. He was just a big, misunderstood softy on the inside with a tough to crack shell on the outside. But today, she'd caught a glimpse of the dangerous man some of the townsfolk pegged him to be. For a moment, she could find herself believing their stories and tall tales. In that moment, it was true. The man before her, this was the man who was capable of all they'd said he was, and it was a terrifying thought.

As if feeding off these same vibes, the man holding Kaylee had loosened his grip, fully prepared to go for his own gun if the situation intensified.

Instead, Mal went on speaking, as if to explain the warning shot. "She gets jittery around other guns. Take 'em out, and I can't control what happens to good old Noah here. If I were you, I'd take my horses, leave the girl, and get goin' before Jayne lets her loose. Your business is finished here for now, boys. Next time you pay a visit to the Frye's, I'm hopin' y'all can talk out a fair and reasonable payment method that don't involve rapin' innocent girls and beating up defenceless, old men," Mal instructed in a firm voice.

His arrangement was not negotiable. It didn't need to be said, it simply wasn't, and they all knew it. The implied consequences were there, in the reminder that there was a gun trained on them, ready to snuff out their lives at a command. It was there in the imposing midnight blue of Mal's eyes, trained on them like a soldier who'd fought in a war and lost, but lived to tell it.

No one else spoke. Kaylee was simply let go, shoved aside and forgotten like a sack of trash. She'd almost lost her balance and fell to the floor. Instead, she spat out the rancid gag, and gave them all a steady, defiant glare with tear glossed eyes. Still, the group of thugs did as Mal had told them to do, untying their horses before saddling up to leave, always wary of Jayne's gun trained on Noah's head the entire time. The one eyed man spared Mal one last nasty look. His pride was hurt, and he no doubt hated being made to look like a sham in front of his men, especially by a poor rancher and his ranch hand. He may not have gotten a bullet in, but he'd be damned if he couldn't at least get the last word.

"Don't know what you're gettin' yourself into, Reynolds. War's over, and soon enough, ain't no one gonna remember or care that you were fightin' in it. All they gonna know is ya lost, and mayhap they blame ya for it. Maybe they think you a hero. But you ain't puttin' food on their table for free, and folk gotta get paid. Some day, them charity cases you work are gonna be the reason there's a bullet in your head, mark my words," Noah forewarned.

"Everyone's got a bullet with their name on it, Noah. Don't make yours the one in my pistol," replied Mal.

The man scowled in response and muttered something inaudible under his breath before galloping off with the rest of his men, disappearing away from town. After the danger had been removed, Kaylee remembered her Pa, and dashed off to check on him. She found him lying unconscious on the ground, face first. Sitting down next to him, she placed his head on her lap, and brushed the dirt, sweat and blood from his face.

"Pa! Pa, you gotta hear me, _please_! _Nándào nǐ gǎn xiǎng líkāi wǒ_ !" She shook him aggressively, unable to help the fresh tears that wet her salt stained cheeks.

She heard Mal's heavy footsteps come closer until his shadow loomed over her and her Pa. He crouched down beside him and watched the elderly man carefully with a cold, calculating expression.

"He's breathin', Kaylee. Jayne and I'll get him to a doctor. Meantime, check on your Ma, and maybe clean off that blood from your face 'fore you do so. Don't imagine she'll handle the news any better if she sees you like this," ordered Mal before he called Jayne down with a whistle and a wave.

He then proceeded to carry Pa Frye alone, hoisting the heavy set man and then draping one of his arms around his broad shoulders, not caring for the blood that may have newly stained his clothes. Kaylee sniffled and wiped at her nose. The impact from the slap had caused her nose to bleed, and she'd been so distraught that she'd barely paid it any attention. She couldn't tell what were tears and snot and what wasn't. Most of the blood had dried and crusted onto her face and chin by now, but she could only imagine the hot mess that she currently was. She licked her dry and chapped lips, getting a taste for iron instantly; proof of blood indeed. When she examined her dirty hands, she found that her fingers were still shaking.

Jayne had sprinted over to where Mal was, ready to give him a hand, the sniper strapped across his back now, put away for the time being. He gave Kaylee a concerned onceover, and she waved him off to help her father instead, turning her back before he saw the fresh tears pooling in her red rimmed eyes. He then helped Mal by taking on some of Pa Frye's weight, and they walked him towards the town. Her bottom lip quivered as she turned back to witness the sight of her father's feet being dragged away, with nothing but Mal and Jayne's strong arms holding him upright, locked against his wide back.

"Jayne got the tipoff that they were comin'. Heard it through the grapevine. Came runnin' to me, knowin' he'd be requirin' the backup. Couldn't get Zoe involved seein' as how she's the law, and those men would consider it a favor to kill an officer on the spot, no hesitation. Figured by the time we got there, they'd be gearin' up to haul out," Mal would later explain when they'd ask him how he'd managed to get there in the nick of time.

He would stare at the amber liquid swimming in the glass in his grip, all the while he recounted the tale, looking as dead in the eyes as he ever did when he had to talk about difficult situations. Kaylee could tell he was beating himself up about it, about how if he had only been there sooner, then maybe he'd have saved them the traumatic experience. She could see it in the way he was treating her. He was distant, quiet, and so forgiving if she was ever late for her shift due to sleeping in. He couldn't even bring himself to touch her, and it hurt her to see him suffering in such a way.

"You shoulda told us you were so far in debt to that band of _húndàn_ ," Jayne would tell her Pa, just as angry and concerned over the newest mercenary activity.

"They may be dumber than a herd o' cattle, but give any man desperate enough a gun, and he ain't gonna hesitate to use it. I should know..." Jayne slammed his glass down onto the counter after emptying its contents in one shot.

But her Pa would shake his head reproachfully; "A man oughtta be able to take care of his family. Can't always be relyin' on you, Mal, Jayne. Noah's right; one o' these days..." he would drift off, unable to finish the thought.

Mal would stay quiet.

Noting the dire mood, Pa Frye would try to make the topic a little more light-hearted; "Don't tell me you got some kinda death wish after what happened with that vixen woman, boy!" Pa Frye would accuse Mal in jest.

This would catch Mal completely off guard, and therefore put him immediately on the defensive; " _Shénme_?! No! No, absolutely not! It's got nothing to do with that _fēngkuáng de mǔgǒu!_ " He retaliated.

Jayne would chuckle knowingly, and even Kaylee couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Helluva woman, though. Shame she didn't stay," the ex mercenary would comment, pouring himself another glass of Pa's finest whisky.

Mal would respond with a heated glare in his direction, but Jayne wouldn't bother to notice.

Sighing, Mal would then admit to what he'd really thought of her Pa's concern; "We all die someday, ain't no gettin' around that. I ain't afraid of dying."

Her Pa would take a sip of whisky as he thought on Mal's confession; "That's a lie, ask Shepherd Book. Ain't a soul not scared of death, son. When a grim reaper's creepin' up, every man is terrified. Soldier or farmer, don't matter much who he is. He won't like to go easily because suddenly, he knows he's got a lot to live for, and that's the truth of it."

* * *

 **A/N:** _An intense first chapter, I know. I said it would be back with a bang, and I had to ensure it did, hence why it's nice and long. Provided a lot more back story here in an effort to glean insight to the world I've manipulated around the story. If anything here made you uncomfortable, then perhaps not reading is the better option. The world here is dark and gritty and ruthless. To those of you brave enough to venture forth, don't hesitate to let me know what you thought of the first chapter. Reviews are always welcome._

 _On a side note, if the characters seem a touch OOC, I'd like everyone to keep an open mind. Inara has obviously taken a different road in life, as has Mal. This, in turn, has affected them. No need to worry, they will definitely grow and become much more like the characters we know in Firefly. Never start off a story with fully developed characters, especially in a tweaked universe. That's boring anyways._

* * *

 **Translations:**

 _Fēng nǚhái:_ crazy girl

 _bù zhōng de húndàn:_ unfaithful bastard

 _bǎobèi:_ darling, baby

 _Wǒ de tiān a:_ dear God

 _Mèimei:_ sister

 _Kělián:_ pathetic

 _Nándào nǐ gǎn xiǎng líkāi wǒ_ : don't you dare think about leaving me

 _Húndàn:_ bastards

 _Shénme?:_ What?

 _fēngkuáng de mǔgǒu:_ crazy bitch


	2. Beauty's Beholder

**A/N:** _Thank you everyone for the feedback. It is much appreciated, and I will definitely be taking all of your ideas and opinions into consideration while writing this._

 _One more disclaimer; the story is slightly an AU, meaning the characters may be different, as well as the history, but many concepts will remain the same._

* * *

 **Anything But Love**

* * *

 **II. Beauty's Beholder**

* * *

 _"You are so beautiful...," he told her, admiring her under the dim candle light._

 _The pads of his fingertips drew circles on the soft, golden skin of her bare arm, leaving behind a trail of goose bumps in their wake._

 _She giggled girlishly in response, and tried to fight off the burn in her cheeks at both the compliment, and his intimate touches._

 _He smirked then. "I know, you must hear that from all of your clients, and by now have grown sick of it," he comprehended._

 _She shook her head, still smiling. "It doesn't mean I don't like hearing you say it," she assured him._

 _He leaned in and kissed her then, deeply. Her eyes fluttered closed, and the sheets that covered her naked body shifted. He hovered over her again, spreading her legs open with the force of his knees..._

* * *

Invasion.

That's what it felt like to her. Sure, they could sugar coat it with kinder words, but what Inara became the moment she'd stepped off of the luxury cruiser, was an unwanted foreigner. Her sweetly smiling husband would have her believe otherwise, though. However, he had always been the fool, and her even more foolish for ever having believed in him. Not anymore though; she knew better now. She knew him too well to fall for his treachery and misconception of ideals.

"We're going to fix this planet, _qīn'ài_. Put it back together, right the wrongs. Together, we'll make it flourish again," Atherton told her, truly believing in the good nature of his mission, despite its other obvious implications.

Shadow had one settlement, thanks to the Alliance. During the bitter war, they'd ensured the planet was nearly inhospitable, poisoning the earth with what was now often referred to as 'The Cleansing', and destroying almost all the life that occupied it, while severely damaging the rest. Then, as if to rub salt in the wound, they'd sentenced what was left of the resistance to move there, on a permanent basis. No one was allowed to leave without express permission. A planetary prison; that was what had become of what was once a beautiful, fertile world. It would forever be an example the Alliance would use in efforts to quell any further questions to their power and judgement.

The people of Shadow did what they could with the hand they were dealt, foraging the land that had managed to somehow survive, and creating a livelihood by up taking whatever meager jobs the Alliance offered them, with an even less impressive pay. They would persevere, no matter that the battle had been lost. They'd been shamed, insulted, banished, and yet they stood strong together. A tight knit family, bonding over the great loss and grief they shared. The Alliance had taken many things from them, but perhaps their freedom had been the worst toll yet.

And now, years later, the Alliance would infiltrate them again, reaping the rewards of their labour with a greedy hand and masking it under the guise of forgiveness. Suddenly, Shadow was a point of interest again, and who better than Atherton Wing to join in on the project and use it to finally make a name for himself? He would prove himself worthy, and become a separate entity from his father at long last.

Inara, as his wife, would have little choice but to tag along, leaving behind all she'd come to know in exchange for a few miserable years in isolation, where her husband would be off working and having frivolous affairs, whilst she dawdled on at home on her lonesome. It was in her to have fought it, of course, but the last time she had gone head to head with the prominent Alliance family she'd married into, the results had been far from pretty. Her disobedience would not be tolerated; the Wing family had ensured she was aware of that.

Still, they weren't entirely morons about the whole ordeal; the core folk lived separately from the settlers. Their homes would be guarded by walls and Alliance military, in case any rim dwellers got too curious or were out on a blood hunt. Tension was still thick between the two sides, and that wasn't like to change any time soon. No one would forget the damage done, the lives lost. Wounds were still fresh, some literally and others figuratively, despite the time that had elapsed since the brutal war. It would come as no surprise if some of the soldiers turned mercenaries would want to seek out a bit of vengeance for all of their Alliance ridden woes.

"What will I do?" She'd finally managed to ask her husband, already knowing she would hate his answer.

Having left behind her job, and her previous life as well, Inara was very much aware of the predicament she would be in should her husband not follow through on his promises. There wasn't any way she could use her array of talents and skills on a planet such as Shadow, and would therefore be secluded into the role of dutiful housewife; a lifestyle that may have been in favour of others, but was certainly not for her.

"Maybe I can help with the project? Public relations, perhaps?" she'd offered, feeling eager at the prospect of working her charm as she always did, and socializing with the people of unique ilk.

Atherton had frowned deeply, the lines on his face changing his handsome, youthful features into something darker. "You know how father feels about your meddling. Not to mention, how many people will take a whore seriously? If anything, you'd only be a negative example if we allowed you to run amok as a face of this project."

She bristled at the harshness of his words, and concealed her temper as best she could, but her knuckles had paled where she clutched the arms of her seat, fingernails digging into the fine leather. Atherton was so nonchalant about it that he barely took notice of how he had offended her, not even looking in her direction when he spoke, choosing to pore over the many screens before him instead. Even after proposing to her, even after years of marriage, he still saw her as nothing more than a whore. In his mind, he had tried to make an honest woman out of her, but over the years, seemed to start believing in his father's words that a whore would always be a whore, no matter how you dressed her up. Or, perhaps, it was just his way of getting back at her for refusing him her body. He had always been a spiteful man.

Inara smiled, forced and tight lipped. "Well, I can't just sit at home all the time, now can I?" She sniped, agitated.

Atherton still wouldn't look at her, and ignored her clear dissatisfaction when he asked, "What's wrong with that? It's what most women would do. You have all the money you could ask for, go buy yourself something to keep you entertained."

There it was again; money.

Why couldn't she just be happy with the money?

Try as she might, she just could not get it into Atherton's head that money was not what she had taken vows with, and it was certainly not what she'd wanted to grow old and die with. Then again, neither was the man sitting across from her, she noted.

There went any notion of them fixing their marriage, then. Her days and nights would be spent cooped inside, reading books or watching videos on the cortex until she grew bored and fell asleep. From the moment they'd moved into their spacious, air conditioned house on Shadow, Atherton was a ghost. He was always off on business expeditions around the planet, socializing with important people and what not. Meanwhile, Inara watched the time tick on by, trapped inside her little dollhouse, and wondered on the possibilities of her life had she not chosen Atherton. She found that she often wandered around, getting used to her new gilded cage, and learning of all its nooks and crannies. She cooked, she cleaned, and she would organize things over and over again until satisfied. Sometimes, on the nights Atherton spent away from their bed, she played dress up. She would doll up, put on some of her finest outfits, high heels, and best makeup, straighten her unruly curls, and admire her handy work.

She would assess her appearance in the mirrors around the house, and learn to appreciate her youth and beauty when no one else would. She was almost ashamed to admit it, but it was the only way she could ensure that she was still desirable, that all her schooling hadn't been for not. Having a husband who found himself in the arms of other women was not exactly a confidence booster in any regard, and she found herself pining over what she'd lost.

She'd also put on the racy stuff; the tight, short, smaller clothes that left little to the imagination. It could have been nothing but a lace teddy, or a sheer night gown, the slits on each side of the fabric high enough to hit her waist, and expose the gentle curves of her hips. She'd leave her hair natural; tousled, jet black curls falling past her shoulders to the small of her back. Makeup would be at a minimum. Her long, cinnamon coloured legs would be exposed, as well as the tantalizing flesh of her soft, supple breasts. She'd forgo a bra, and wear her laciest thong underneath the flimsy dress. Sometimes, while she'd be walking around her house in such attire, she'd notice an Alliance officer walking past, catching a glimpse of her from the window. The reaction was always the same; the double take, the slack-jawed expression, and the shameless staring until they'd realize whose home it was they were spying into. Reluctantly, they'd turn away, as if they'd seen nothing at all. She knew they talked about her; the beautiful and lonely housewife of Atherton Wing, neglected and in need of a serious romping session. She ignored the gossip, though; she was never one to care what others had to say of her. If she did, she wouldn't have been half as successful at her previous career.

It was pathetic, how she longed for any kind of reminder of who she once had been. But, it was the only way she could cling to the life she had been so used to. No amount of expensive clothes or makeup would ever redeem her, she knew that. But she hadn't earned any of the finer things she owned anymore, like she usually did back in her prime; instead, they'd been given to her by a man who couldn't spare her more than a thought and only because he wanted to flaunt her as one of his many collectibles.

 _You can't have her..._ He was so proud of owning her, while she detested every moment she'd be reminded that her wings had been forever clipped.

Eventually, she'd get sick and tired of sitting around and waiting for Atherton to come home, if he even did, that was. When he did show up, it was always very late, and he'd already have satisfied his appetite. Sometimes, it wasn't just his hunger that was appeased. He would slip into bed, the smell of sex and sweat and cheap perfume still clinging to him like a second skin.

One morning, Inara finally made the decision to sneak out and explore the town, despite knowing that it had been frowned upon by many. It was dangerous out there, beyond the walls, full of brigands and murderers who wouldn't hesitate to do unspeakable things to a woman of such status. What they didn't realize was that Inara was a woman frightened by little, and spent enough time on her own to know how to take care of herself. She'd taken some credits with her, dressed in the most casual clothes she owned, and headed outside. The heat on Shadow was so intense, she could feel a sweat coming on just moments after leaving the cool house. An Alliance soldier saw her then, and seemed taken aback by her presence as well as her shoddy appearance. She was dressed in a pair of tight, black cargo pants, plain brown boats, and a hooded army green vest that zipped in the front. It was nowhere near as glamorous as she was typically perceived.

Unfazed, she gave the soldier a smile and greeted him, "Good afternoon."

"Afternoon, ma'am!" He replied, clearly flustered. He must have been a new recruit, she guessed. His uniform beret was askew, and he looked young enough to be fresh out of the academy.

For once, the lady fortune had smiled upon her, Inara learned, grateful. For all the man knew, she would be meeting and socializing with the other core wives that had been dragged to this miserable planet, gabbing about husbands, fashion, and what atrocities so and so had been caught wearing the other day. But Inara had more important things on her mind, like the idea of fresh produce.

Usually, their groceries were ordered in, but that meant less fresh food, and more packaged goods. While Inara was on the core planets, she'd attend the markets for the merchants that would offer up freshly grown fruits and vegetables. Their prices were often exuberant, but she didn't mind paying their fees if it meant a healthier, heartier meal. Shadow had once been well known for its farming, and many of the people relied heavily on the land to sustain them instead of the protein supply the Alliance would provide.

She figured it wouldn't harm anyone if she went about the shopping district in search of some tastier foodstuffs. She would charm the guards at the entrance into letting her slip out; that part would always be quite simple. She had always been good at making people compliant, unbeknownst to them.

"Atherton's given me permission to go about and inspect the town, meet some of the people and pick their brains about the land," she'd lied sweetly.

It wasn't very hard to fool the men when they were too busy staring into her bottomless, dark eyes, admiring her exotic beauty. All they needed to hear was Atherton's name, and she was in the clear, leaving the safety of the great walls that guarded the settlement behind her. It wasn't like Atherton ever checked up on her whereabouts either; he never truly cared enough, and it was therefore unlikely that he would ever get wind of her little adventure.

Once outside of the safe and tall stone walls, she began to feel rather exposed, self-conscious and nervous. Inara raised the hood of her vest over her head in an effort to shade herself from the scalding sun, as well as shield most of her face from the public eye. She was just a wandering soul in search of goods, much like everyone else in the marketplace, blending in as best as she possibly could.

She wandered the lonely dirt paths into town, taking in her surroundings as best she could since the walk would be an awfully long one; Shadow was everything an agricultural rim world could be. Dust clouds, patches of grass where it could grow, homes, barns, and buildings that were falling apart, and endless wheat fields in the distance. It was poor and barren for the most part, and the faces she encountered were mean and dirty, but the sky was a breathtaking, endless clear blue. The few people she did come across along the way had eyes that said they'd seen too much in a single lifetime. They stared at her shamelessly despite her guise, immediately noticing how clean she looked compared to their own raggedy appearance. Nonetheless, she was sure to keep her head down and walk a little bit faster so as to avoid any confrontation. It was no surprise that, much like most rim worlds, many of the folk were carrying concealed; armed with illegal weapons that had been smuggled in right under the Alliance's nose.

They hadn't cared much, despite the illegal contraband that made its way onto the planet; they had rules and regulations of course, but the punishment was not so severe if caught. They simply confiscated the wares, gave out a fine, and sent the smuggler on their way. After all, crime was only to be expected on such a world, the law meaning little in a town rife with thieves, murderers, and rebels.

By the time Inara had spotted the bustling marketplace, she was sweating in ways and places a proper core lady shouldn't have sweated. She was almost overcome with relief at the prospect of shade where the vendors had set up shop. There were significantly more people about in this part of town when compared to where the Alliance had settled, thus making it easy for her to get lost and blend in. She pushed past bodies, and examined each table's goods, nearly salivating at the bright colours of the unique, rare fruits and vegetables littered about the tables. Some were still covered in the dirt they'd grown in as an attest to their fresh quality. It wasn't missed by her that some vendors had packages of protein for sale as well, offered at a significantly cheaper price point than that of anything grown. What little they did have of produce was extremely overpriced, marked up due to the sheer lack of quantity and the itch to make a profit. Some of the rarer fruits were even more expensive than on any core planet.

That didn't mean that people wouldn't try to haggle, and more often than not, they'd end up paying a fraction less than the asking price, with the salesman still making a marginal profit. Inara herself purchased a couple of inconspicuous items at face value, such as a loaf of bread, three different coloured peppers, and ripe red tomatoes. She hadn't wanted to spend too much of her credits so as not to draw any attention to herself, but at the same time felt it wrong to haggle for the goods when there were others who needed the money. She'd been satisfied with her purchases, and was ready to make a hasty exit with a fair amount of coin still left in her pockets, when she'd been drawn to the voice of a woman nearby, bargaining for a crate of strawberries.

"Hang on, I think I got enough for at least three," she said, biting her bottom lip as she scrounged for the change in her pouch.

The vendor grunted as he watched her from behind a pair of thick reading lenses, displeased and sour. "No, Miss, they come as a bushel. Ya either buy the whole lot or none at all," he informed her.

His stall had been one of the pricier ends of the market, but he also carried some of the finer delicacies such as blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, and strawberries. Despite his pricing, he was still very much popular in due to his imported and rare goods. Inara had initially avoided his stall altogether.

"How about just the one then? Surely ain't no one gonna notice one outta the bunch," the brunette pleaded.

The tall, thin, balding man stood up and barked at her; "Don't make me repeat myself, I got other payin' customers 'round here. Prices ain't negotiable; you ain't buyin' you best be leavin'."

The girl became defeated in her fight to procure what was considered to be a highly coveted berry in the 'verse. She gave up fiddling in her small coin pouch when he ignored her for another customer. By the time she was ready to offer up a different bargain, she'd been pushed away by others who did have the coin to afford the grouchy man's merchandise. She stood outside the crowd, pouting and staring helplessly into her very light, small purse. She tucked a few strands of her honey brown hair behind her ear, put away the pouch into a pocket of her green coveralls and made her way to a different vendor that had an abundance of protein in stock.

With a sad smile, she offered up what was left of her money in exchange for a couple of parcels of the bland but nutritious substance.

Inara didn't know why she'd noticed the girl at all, yet somehow, she'd stood out amongst the crowd. She was younger than most of the women about, and she was wearing a grease stained jumpsuit instead of a dress. Her eyes, unlike those surrounding her, seemed kind, and despite the vendor's negative attitude, she had been sweet up to the end.

It was simple, really. Inara didn't even need to really think it through; she simply shoved her way to the berry stand where the bushel of fruit remained untouched, the deep red skin glistening in the sunlight, and grabbed them before she lost sight of the girl.

"I'd like to buy the bunch, please," she told the salesman, meeting his stare head on and forking over a handful of credits.

The vendor gave her a mistrusting look, as if unsure of her credibility. In response, she shook her extended hand in encouragement and he grabbed at the cash greedily, counting the bills painstakingly slow and licking his finger as he flipped the paper. Once satisfied, he gave her a curt nod and allowed her to walk away with the coveted fruit basket. Inara looked about for the young girl in green as soon as she broke free of the throng of people around her.

She found her lonely figure walking out of town, carrying a small bag full of the protein she'd just purchased. Her head was down as she counted the remaining bits of coin she had left in the palm of her hand. Inara was able to catch up with her fairly easily at a walking pace since she'd been too distracted to get very far. As she came up behind her, the girl still didn't pay her any attention until Inara had spoke up.

"I think I overdid it; I bought way too many of these, and it's not like I can eat all of them before they spoil. But that _liánjià_ man wouldn't take anything less," Inara stated aloud, causing the youth to turn around and acknowledge her, a bewildered expression on her face.

Her hazel green eyes then fell to the aforementioned berries in Inara's hands, and her jaw dropped.

Inara smiled softly in genuine amusement at the girl's registered shock, and then shrugged. "I couldn't help but notice that you'd been eyeing them earlier, too."

She looked around to see if maybe Inara had her confused with someone else. "You're talkin' at me, ma'am?" She pointed at herself in question.

Inara nodded, holding out the small crate towards her. "Would you care to share?"

As it dawned on her, the brunette's expression changed from intrigue to sheer giddiness, wearing a smile both wide and excited as she looked at Inara gratefully. It was the sweetest and most sincere thing Inara had seen in a very long while.

And that was how she'd come to share a basket of fruit with the strawberry woman, on a pure and unexpected whim. Anyone else from the town, and they would have reacted differently, but somehow, Inara knew that this girl would appreciate the gesture. And she did, sitting next to her and enjoying every single, juicy bite like an orgasm in her mouth.

It was only after there was nothing left that the young, mousy brunette finally introduced herself; "Kaywinnit Lee Frye, but you can just call me Kaylee. Pleasure to make your acquaintance!" She smiled shyly after realizing, quite bashfully, that she'd partaken in the devouring of the strawberries without doing so prior.

She grinned, her cheeks flushing. "Sorry, I can be a mite forgetful at times. Ma says it's the Frye genes, but she only says that 'cause my Pa has quite the selective memory," she confessed with a chuckle, wiggling her brows suggestively.

Inara laughed in between bites of strawberry. Truth be told, she'd been trying to avoid introductions, not entirely sure if she wanted to reveal her identity just yet in the event that Kaylee took it poorly. But once the laughter died down, she could feel the younger girl's eyes on her, waiting. She thought about lying, maybe making up a false persona for the time being so as to avoid any judgement that came with the reveal of her true name. But when she met the girl's gaze, she found it troubling to lie to her. Not only would it blow up in her face later, but it would also ruin a potential friendship. Inara also refused to let Atherton taint her in such a way; she wouldn't allow her fears to stray her away from her values.

"...My name, it's Inara." She confided to her at last, once she'd collected her thoughts and made her decision.

She waited for the backlash, looking away because she wasn't certain she could handle the recognition and the disappointment that would follow shortly. She ate the remainder of the berry with a churning stomach and a sour mouth, putting the stem back into the empty crate when she was done.

"That's a pretty name. Don't think it's awfully common. Sounds so exotic. Do you know what it means?" Kaylee's innocence took Inara by complete surprise.

She looked at her then, only to see her looking back at her, sincere and curious, the corners of her mouth lifted up in a contented smile. Either she truly didn't know who she was, or she just didn't care. Inara didn't know which she preferred. So, instead of dwelling on the matter, she focused on the question she'd been asked.

"Illuminating. My mother liked it the moment she'd heard it. _Xiǎo guāng_ , I was her little light, or so she'd call me." The memory was a fond one, and Inara looked back on it dearly.

"Makes it even prettier. Sounds like somethin' from Earth-That-Was, like an ancient language long forgotten. I think it suits ya," Kaylee commented dreamily.

Somehow, this girl she'd just met had managed to get her talking about things she'd thought were buried away forever, things she'd never told anyone. Inara couldn't tell if she should have been alarmed or pleasantly surprised. Even when she'd been happy with Atherton, it was rare that he ever got her talking about her past, or her family. As she thought about it, she realized that he'd never really ask her those sorts of questions. This new insight both saddened her and darkened her mood.

 _How could I have been so blind?_ She thought, angry and disappointed in herself.

"Oh, gosh! Can't believe we polished 'em off so quickly! I'm hopin' your husband don't get too upset with ya!" Kaylee cried out suddenly, breaking Inara away from her emotional turmoil.

For a moment, she wondered how she'd come to know about Atherton, only to then feel the heaviness of the glittering stone on her marriage finger, marking her as his possession. She stared at it bitterly, and wondered why she wore the ball and chain at all. After all, its purpose was only to serve as a reminder of the very thing she longed to escape.

"He doesn't care for strawberries," she assured Kaylee flippantly, unable to mask the coldness in her tone.

The younger girl seemed flabbergasted by such a revelation. "Figures a purplebelly wouldn't appreciate the finer things in life," she concluded resentfully.

Inara snapped to attention at the term rim folk had taken to calling all those from the core.

So, she did know.

Kaylee gasped then, and looked embarrassed when she met Inara's curious gaze. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to...it's just, everyone 'round here says that a lot, I guess it's rubbed off on me. Not that that's any excuse, me and my gorram mouth. I really am sorry," she clarified, her cheeks reddening.

Inara didn't seem to care much for the insult. She'd called Atherton worse things, but she wasn't about to confess that to her new friend.

"So you know who I am, then," Inara said, but it ended up sounding more like a question as she gauged the girl's response vigilantly.

Kaylee smiled and scratched nervously at the back of her head. "It ain't exactly hard to tell core folk apart from townspeople here. Not many can afford Benny's prices, and the ones who can, they're usually people you gotta stay away from. That, and you're all... _shiny_. You stand out, even when you're not tryin'. Not that it's a bad thing, it's just...you're awful pretty, and ain't anyone in town prettier than Nandi...," admitted Kaylee, her cheeks aflame.

An age old compliment, Inara knew that. The amount of times she'd heard men and women tell her how beautiful she was, she could have been rich if she'd been paid based on that fact alone. Ever since she'd been a little girl, she'd been the envy of many, and later in her teenage years, lusted after by more. So she sat there, hearing the words all over again, and yet this time, they felt different. It never mattered that they all sounded the same, or used the same adjectives; it was the person who spoke them that changed the meaning and the impact that was delivered.

From her previous clients, they were empty compliments. From her colleagues, it was masked jealousy. From her husband, it had meant everything before she'd learned that it was just another way he kept her. From Kaylee, it was enough to elicit a coy blush that Inara would seldom give to anyone. Something about the way she said it had been heartfelt and distinctive. For the first time in years, the words left her speechless.

"Anyhow, I can already tell you ain't like 'em other core folk. They don't normally wander into town, buyin' strangers expensive fruit, that's for sure," Kaylee pressed on when the silence between them had gone on for a second too long.

Inara stared off in the direction of the Alliance settlement, where her perfect, gilded cage awaited her. "I imagine they don't like to leave the safety of those walls very often at all," she said softly, the slight breeze picking up strands of her hair.

"I got an idea!" Kaylee exclaimed just then. "I can show ya 'round town if you like! Introduce you to all the right folk, tell you what's what and who's the who in this l'il place."

 _Freedom's Chain._ It was what the people had come to call the main town on Shadow, Inara had learned. The only town now. It was the rebels' way of playing on words; they'd fought for freedom and lost, chained forever to a planet that had once been full of promise.

Kaylee had taken Inara to one of the only wheat field farms close to town, where they'd sat on a short, stone fence, watching the sun, Murphy, begin to set in a clear blue sky. The land was small, but there'd been enough undamaged soil for the farmer to grow his stock. The thick sea of faded yellow plants swayed in the wind, leaves rustling softly, as if to dance to her train of thought.

"I'm not sure...I doubt many of the people here would want to meet and converse with the wife of a man who is partly responsible for...well, for all of it," Inara confessed, uncertain.

Kaylee shook her head, waving away Inara's concerns with her hand. "Not the folk I know. They ain't so tainted that they can't see past somethin' like that. If I can, surely they will, too," Kaylee grinned, reassuring.

Inara gave the girl a sympathetic smile in return, but remained skeptical. "That's very kind of you to say, Kaylee, but not everyone is as open-minded as you..."

Kaylee hopped off of the fence, cleaning off the palms of her hands from the dirt that had settled on the stone. "Ain't takin' no for an answer. Matter o' fact, my Ma's invited a few close friends over for dinner tonight, so the timin's ripe. You should come, she ain't like to mind another guest. The more, the merrier!"

Before Inara could come up with another protest, Kaylee piped up, "'Sides, them strawberries were delicious, but I don't think they're quite like dinner food. It won't be much, but Ma does have a mean biscuit recipe. Combined with the dairy I got from Mal's ranch, they'll be the best tastin' ones you'll get planet side."

Inara was left floundering, unsure of how to deny the offer with grace. She looked down at her attire and desperately hung on to one last objection; "But, I'm not even dressed!"

Kaylee gave her a once-over, and then shrugged. "Looks like you got clothes on to me. Now come on before Ma has my hide for bein' late," she chided.

Her fate had been sealed at the insistence of one kind hearted girl, and Inara somehow felt weak having succumbed to her terms so easily.

They had only just met, the two of them, but it had already felt like they were old friends. Inara had spent most of the time listening to Kaylee and her stories while munching on berries, intrigued by the girl's colorful history. Then again, she had always been good at listening and getting people to open up to her, garnering their trust almost immediately. Honest eyes. They'd tell her she had honest eyes, rich and beautiful, swirls of dark browns where the light hit, and pure obsidian where it missed.

 _One could lose themselves in them, falling freely, and wouldn't feel anything short of bliss..._ Once upon a time, the Atherton she'd fallen in love with had described her eyes in such a way.

Not wanting to dwell on her husband any longer, Inara hopped off of the old stone wall, resolving to join Kaylee, if only so that she wouldn't have to head back to an empty, cold, and lonely house. Kaylee grabbed the bag of protein she'd purchased, while Inara collected the crate of strawberry stems and her other goods.

"I suppose you leave me with no choice then," Inara admitted defeat, but smiled warmly at the brunette, feeling a little less apprehensive about attending the small dinner party now.

Kaylee dug her hands into the deep pockets of her green coveralls and grinned. "Atta girl!" She cheered in response to the older woman's consensus.

"They're gonna warm up to ya, just you watch!"

* * *

"Planet's crawlin' with feds," Jayne grumbled aloud.

He picked up the stack of dinner plates from the Frye's kitchen counter, and headed into the dining room, matching them to the individual chairs at the dinner table.

"Maybe their presence will put crime to a slow crawl," Mrs. Frye spoke, trying to look on the bright side of the otherwise dark situation.

Mal harrumphed. "That ain't like to happen. 'S far as Alliance is concerned, sooner we pick one another off, the better," he said bitterly, passing out the cutlery.

"What happens when they succeed? Can't imagine they want us runnin' round free on a profitable planet _they_ made rich," chimed in Mr. Frye.

" _If_ they succeed. Don't think those purplebellies understand the extent of the damage they've caused," corrected Zoe from the small kitchen, drying her hands in a cloth from the soapy tussle she'd had with some dirty dishes.

Mrs. Frye slapped Jayne's curious fingers away from a platter of steaming food, before she carried it out to the dining room. He looked offended, but didn't push the matter with the older woman, licking the soupy contents off his finger instead.

"Isn't it funny how the Alliance has had this technology to fix the problem all along, and only suddenly seemed to have remembered to use it? Or is that just me?" Wash asked, taking his place at the old oak table, tucking his chair in and folding a napkin over his lap.

Zoe came up behind him, her hand gently caressing his shoulder, and smiled before taking her place to the right of him. "No, honey. Think we're all askin' that question."

"I'm thinkin' y'all are forgettin' that these are the same folk who wiped out entire towns of all human life just for the goods, usin' the war as a front to cover their greedy _pìgu_ ," Mal added, helping Mrs. Frye with all the platters of piping hot food, and dispersing them amongst the table fairly.

"Alright, let's not taint this delicious meal that Myrna has worked so hard to make with the talk of war and the Alliance, please," Wash stated, eyeing the mouth watering plate of golden biscuits set directly in front of him.

Jayne sat across from the blonde pilot, and looked around at the food laid out before him, unsure of what to dig into first. His appetite was almost as big as he was. "I agree. Now, let's get to eatin'."

Just as he made to grab at a steaming biscuit, Mal snagged it away before he could, giving him a glare that said his rudeness would not be tolerated. "We're waitin' on Kaylee," he warned him in an icy tone of voice.

"Where is my daughter, anyhow? Ain't she supposed to have been back by now?" Mr. Frye questioned from the head of the table, a look of worry crossing his features.

Mal looked over at him, tight lipped as the thought was forefront in his mind again. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, there was a light knock on the front door that had suddenly gotten everyone's attention, making them all stop in their places. Everyone looked about the room, eyeing each other, perplexed and accusing, beckoning the question, who would be the one to answer it? However, Mal didn't need to be asked; he would always carry the burden and face the danger first, no matter what it was. He was already moving towards the door before anyone else could even have the chance to speak up.

"Must be her. Guessin' she forgot her keys again," he concluded, trying to come up with a reason as to the girl's tardiness, and appease her family's anxiety.

Nonetheless, he was sure to tuck his pistol into the back of his pants as a precaution, before he made to unlock the door. There was another rapping of knuckles, this time a bit louder and longer. He peered through the eyehole cautiously, only to be greeted by Kaylee's bright face, slightly distorted due to the glass, but she was smiling widely and waving at him.

He undid the locks, swung the door open, and saw the female mechanic standing before him, unharmed, and carrying a bag of goods from the market. Yet he could not return her good cheer just yet; instead, he stared at the hooded figure wallowing behind her, inspecting the woman with a scrutinizing and fierce look, the muscles in his jaw twitching. His gun hand itched at his side.

"Hiya Mal! Looks like the gang's all here! Sorry 'bout bein' late. Somethin' came up, but I'll tell ya all about it over dinner," Kaylee explained, trying to squeeze past the tall, intimidating man blocking the doorway.

She saw the way that the older man had been staring past her, and looked back to see that Inara had lifted her hood up again, most of her face now obscured.

In an effort to calm the situation, she shouted out loud, "I brought a guest. Ma won't mind; she's got a habit of makin' too much anyhow. Come on in, and I'll introduce ya!" She beckoned Inara inside.

Mal let the woman slip inside after Kaylee, but not before giving her a calculating stare that seemed to pierce right through her. He remained a daunting presence, opting not to say anything to her despite Kaylee's short clarification. He stood up straight,shoulders back, using his full height to his advantage, and folded his arms over his broad chest, eyes never leaving Inara. Feeling him looking at her, she opted to keep her hood over her head until Kaylee gave her the cue to make her appearance. Already, she was regretting her decision to come, her confidence slipping away the more she felt the heat of the stare she was receiving; it was obvious she was not welcome, despite Kaylee's persistence.

The rest of the people she met in the quiet dining room only further confirmed her distress. All eyes were on her, and although attention was not something Inara wasn't accustomed to, hostility certainly was. As Inara continued to feel very much out of place, Kaylee bounced about the dining room greeting everyone as cheerily as ever, oblivious to the tension. She gave both her Ma and Pa kisses on the cheek, and then made her rounds to the people already seated.

Inara was very aware of Mal standing behind her, as he leaned against the door frame, watching her the whole time. It grated on her nerves, the way the man seemed to be so keen on her, and not in any good way. She was almost tempted to turn on him, remove her hood, and ask him exactly what he thought he was staring at. Her hands were turning into fists at her sides and her ears burned.

However, before she could act on anything, Kaylee had come up to her then, smiling toothily and taking her hand, leading her further forward into the room like an ecstatic child with a new toy.

"Why don't ya take off that hood, already? Ain't like it's pourin' in here," Kaylee instructed playfully, moving to pull the material off her head before she had even the chance to consider it herself.

Once it had been removed, Inara felt every pair of eyes boring into her, examining and judging like hands all over her, touching and prodding. She tried her hardest to remain collected and calm.

"I'd like y'all to meet 'Nara. We got on at the market, and she was kind enough to share some o' Benny's strawberries with me. Now, she's new in town, so be nice!" instructed Kaylee.

She then started introducing Inara to the many mistrusting faces around the table. She started with her own parents, who looked a touch more comfortable than the rest did, or were at least more discreet about their suspicions. "That's my Ma and Pa over at the head of the table." She pointed them out, and the older couple managed a smile in her direction.

"It's a pleasure to meet ya, dear. Any friend of Kaylee's a friend o' ours," Mrs. Frye told her.

Mr. Frye was also a man of good spirits, despite the pressure in the room, giving Inara a welcoming smile. It was obvious then where Kaylee had gotten her good nature from. "Folk always say the best way to get to know a person is to sup with 'em. I'm glad you've joined us this evenin', darlin', and that you were so generous with our girl here. Benny don't charge a fair price for his goods."

Inara smiled back. "Thank you for having me on such short notice," she said, humbled by their words, and bowing in their direction.

Kaylee continued around the table. "That's Jayne Cobb. He's uh...well, he's a family friend and a co-worker, I suppose. Very helpful when you're in a pinch," Kaylee described the burly, muscular man staring at Inara from across the room, wearing what could only be described as a feral look. His mouth was slightly agape, and she recognized lust in a man's eyes the moment she saw it.

With a taut smile, she nodded in his direction and looked to the fair haired man seated across from him quickly after. "Then there's Wash, finest pilot you'll meet planet side."

He waved at her, and she noted that Wash had a much more relaxed, trusting expression when he addressed her, his aura not so different from the mechanic she'd just met. "Kaylee only says that because I pay her to. Well, I pay her to mostly fix up my ship proper, but compliments are part of the tab. Or, at least they should be with what she charges me," he joked, and it elicited a genuine laugh from both Inara and Kaylee's lips.

"Well, if you weren't off flyin' like a _fēngkuáng de hóuzi_ and breakin' everything on your girl, I wouldn't have to keep replacin' her parts so often!" Kaylee rebutted playfully.

"Movin' on, sittin' next to him is the lovely Mrs. Washburne. Zoe's the law round these parts, so if any townsfolk give you trouble, don't hesitate reportin' to her," Kaylee described the beautiful, tall, darker skinned woman seated beside the golden haired pilot. She stared at Inara with an expression void of emotion, but there was distrust in her dark eyes. Cold and deadly, the woman was obviously a powerhouse, watching the scenario play out in the background, but ready to act if the moment called for it.

"And last but certainly not least, is Malcolm Reynolds. He's basically my boss sometimes, and he can be a real grouch, but if you'll be wantin' dairy, he's your guy. Ain't no one on Shadow can match his produce, or his cattle," Kaylee beamed, finally motioning to the man who'd been watching Inara carefully from even before she'd stepped through the door.

Inara turned to meet the deep set, indigo blue gaze of Malcolm Reynolds for the first time that night. He maintained his position against the doorframe, unmoving, and was looking at her like she was something to be picked apart and studied. It unsettled her, the way he monitored her in such an intense way, even now. Inara swallowed her pride, and spoke up after what felt like an eternity of silence, choosing to be the bigger person. "It's nice to finally meet you. Kaylee's had nothing but praises to sing about you, Mr. Reynolds."

He moved then, like a flawless statue coming to life, and took a step towards her, eyes never leaving her own. Inara backed up instinctively, unsure of what he was capable of as he towered over her, looking as mean as any cold-blooded killer would. He searched the planes of her face, close enough that she could feel his warm breath against her skin. She was pressed up against a free chair, holding it for balance, as she tried to stand her ground.

He knew who she was. It hadn't mattered what Kaylee had said; this man knew who she was, and _hated_ her for it with every fibre of his being. It was there in the fiery blue coal of his eyes, in the creases of his brow, and in the way his mouth became a fixed line on his face.

"What's your last name?" He finally asked her, breaking the heavy silence that had shrouded them both.

Inara stared him down just as fiercely as he did, growing more and more defiant and angry at his intrusion and unwarranted rudeness. Chin high, she answered him with a sense of pride she hadn't felt for a name in a long time, if only to watch him squirm in response; "Wing. Inara Serra-Wing."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Long chapter is long, but expect them to be this way. That being said, this took me a long time to write. I don't know if I'm entirely happy with it, but I've spent so much time on it, I can't fathom rewriting it all when I've still got Sky Song to polish off. Translations, as per usual, are below. Feedback is also most welcome._

* * *

 **Translations**

 _qīn'ài:_ darling, dear

 _liánjià_ : cheap

 _Xiǎo guāng_ : Little light

 _Pìgu:_ ass

 _fēngkuáng de hóuzi_ : Crazy monkey


End file.
